by Betty Neels
He stooped to kiss the old lady’s cheek, shook Miss Welling’s hand and whistled to Beauty. From the look he gave her, Arabella guessed quite rightly that she was to see him out of the house. She followed him into the hall where Butter was waiting.
Dr Tavener’s directions took only a minute or so before Butter tactfully withdrew, leaving Arabella and Titus facing each other at the door. If she had hoped for anything of even a slightly romantic nature, she wasn’t going to get it.
‘Take Duke for a run each day, will you? Butter usually takes him but I dare say you’ll go at a pace to suit Duke better. Let Butter know what day you want to go shopping. Don’t bother to buy too much; you can shop all you want to when we get back to London. Take care of that puppy of yours and Percy—they seem to have settled down very nicely.’
He didn’t ask if she had settled down nicely. A flicker of resentment flamed inside her and died when she remembered Bess and Jerry.
‘Drive carefully,’ she said, and bent to pat Beauty’s head.
He said, surprising her, ‘You are happy, Arabella?’
‘Thank you, yes, I am, Titus.’
He opened the door, kissed her briefly on a cheek, ushered Beauty into the car, got in himself and drove away with a casual wave as he went.
‘After all, what did I expect?’ Arabella asked herself, and went back to discuss a wedding outfit with Mrs Tavener.
* * *
Everyone was very kind; she was surrounded by warmth and comfort and people anxious that she should feel at home and happy. Although she had her meals with Mrs Tavener and Miss Welling she had the rest of the days to herself and despite the wintry weather she took Duke for long walks, getting to know the surrounding countryside. She had coffee with the rector and his wife too. The rector’s wife was a dear little woman who took it for granted that Arabella and Titus were deeply in love. ‘So very nice to have you at the manor,’ she confided to Arabella. ‘Titus has been single for too long. I look forward to you living there—it’s a lovely old place, isn’t it? Marvellous for children too.’
She misinterpreted Arabella’s pink cheeks and smiled cosily.
Halfway through the week Butter drove Arabella to Bath, arranged to pick her up again in the late afternoon and drove off, leaving her to the exciting business of buying clothes. Every penny she possessed was in her purse—not a great deal of money but enough for what she intended to buy.
It was lunchtime before she had found what she wanted: a jacket and skirt in a fine wool in the blue of a winter sky. There was a matching silk top to go with them and, after a bit of poking around, she found a velvet hat with a high crown and a tiny brim. Pulled well down over her eyes, she fancied, it improved her looks...
It had been an expensive outfit so she went in search of the high street stores and found a pleated checked skirt with a three-quarter-length jacket to go with it, a couple of sweaters, some undies and a simple dress in stone-coloured cotton jersey—and she was almost penniless. She had pretty shoes and several pairs of good gloves salvaged from earlier days. She would have liked a handbag but that must wait. She ate a very overdue lunch in a small and cheap café and walked to where Butter was to pick her up.
Back in her room at the manor, she spread her purchases out on the bed. They were all right as far as they went but she would need to go shopping once she was married. Her wardrobe was woefully inadequate for the wife of an eminent physician. She tried on the hat and decided that it had been worth every penny of its price.
At dinner that evening she assured Mrs Tavener that she had had a most successful day shopping. ‘I won’t tell you what I’ve bought—I’d like it to be a surprise.’
Titus had telephoned once during the week. He would drive down with his best man—a friend of long-standing—and arrive for breakfast. Dr Marshall and his wife would arrive on the Friday evening—Butter had his instructions; they would stay the night at the manor. He would see her on Saturday morning at the church.
He had rung off with the kind of goodbye she might have expected from an older brother.
Mrs Butter, a great one for tradition, brought her breakfast up to her room on Saturday morning. ‘The doctor’s here, miss,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Dr and Mrs Marshall are having breakfast with him now. Do eat up—I’ll be back in half an hour or so to run your bath. You mustn’t be late at the church.’
Arabella ate her breakfast, for she had the good sense to know that she would be too excited to eat anything else for the rest of the day. She dressed carefully, wishing to make the best of herself; it was, after all, her wedding-day. She didn’t look too bad, she considered, inspecting herself in the pier glass. It would have been nice if she had been pretty but since Titus wasn’t in love with her she supposed that that didn’t matter very much, and the right clothes, the right make-up and a visit to a good hairdresser would certainly improve her looks.
It was time to go. Mrs Butter came to fetch her, wearing an overpowering hat and a buttonhole in her winter coat.
‘You look lovely,’ she said. ‘Just like a bride should. The master’s gone to the church and Dr Marshall’s waiting for you.’
Dr Marshall kissed her. ‘You look beautiful—that’s a pretty thing you’re wearing and I do like the hat. Let’s go.’
It was to have been a very quiet wedding but half the village had crammed into the church. Arabella hesitated at the door but Dr Marshall nipped her arm. ‘Titus wants you to have these,’ he whispered, and handed her a little bouquet of roses and miniature lilies, pale pink, and mixed in with them were lily-of-the-valley, miniature daffodils and small sprigs of rosemary. She buried her nose in its fragrance and then took Dr Marshall’s arm and walked serenely down the aisle, her eyes on Titus’s broad back. When they were almost by him he turned to look at her and smile and she smiled back. Two old friends meeting, she thought in a muddled way. Everything was going to be all right.
She made her vows in a small firm voice, meaning to keep every word of them. The future was unpredictable but she intended to do her best to be the kind of wife he wanted. She didn’t hear a word of the rector’s short homily, so busy was she with her own thoughts.
The rest of the day passed in a dream; she smiled and talked and shook hands and was kissed, drank a little too much champagne, cut the cake with Titus’s firm hand upon hers and at length found herself in the Rolls with the animals crowded in the back and all of them covered in confetti.
Once they were clear of the village Titus pulled into a lay-by.
‘We should have brought a dustpan and brush with us,’ he observed. ‘Come here and be brushed down.’
They laughed about it together while she did the same for him and then the more difficult task of getting the confetti out of whiskery faces and furry coats commenced.
‘That’s better,’ said Titus. ‘Now I can see you. I like the hat!’
‘Thank you, and thank you too for the beautiful flowers. It was a very successful wedding, wasn’t it?’
‘Indeed, yes. Now we will embark upon a successful marriage. Quite a different thing but one to which I look forward.’
‘Me too,’ said Arabella.
Mrs Turner had been at the wedding and Butter had left with her an hour or so before they had. She would be at Little Venice by the time they got there, ready to welcome them, and Butter would have started the drive back to the manor, anxious not to miss the party to be held in the village pub to celebrate the wedding.
Dr Tavener made good speed; there was very little traffic and although dusk was falling the road was clear but it was almost dark when he drew up before his house. All the lights were on and Mrs Turner flung open the door with a flourish.
‘That’s the best wedding I’ve ever been to,’ she assured them as they went indoors. ‘All the lovely flowers and the organ, and you, madam, looked a fair treat.’<
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Titus went to let the animals out and she said, ‘Tea’s all ready in the drawing-room. I’ll see to the animals—you must both be needing a cup.’
‘You’re a jewel, Mrs Turner. Will you take Mrs Tavener up to her room first? I’ll take the dogs and Percy into the garden—perhaps you would feed them presently?’
Arabella followed Mrs Turner up the staircase to a room at the back of the house, overlooking the canal. It was very large with doors opening on to a wrought-iron balcony and furnished in much the same style as her room at the manor—soft pastel colours, a wide four-poster bed and a dressing-table of applewood. There were a couple of comfortable chairs and pretty lamps on the tables, and delicate water-colours on the cream satin-striped walls.
‘The bathroom’s through that door and the dressing-room’s on the other side, madam, and you’ve only to ask for anything you would like.’
‘Mrs Turner, I’m sure everything is just perfect. I hope you will give me your advice...’
‘That I will, with pleasure. Not lived in London before you went to the doctor’s rooms?’
‘No, my home was in the country, near Sherborne. Not anywhere as large as the manor but a nice rambling sort of house. This house is beautiful, though. It isn’t like living in London at all and it’s so quiet.’ She turned from the window. ‘You do have help in the house, Mrs Turner?’
‘That I do. Maisie comes in each morning—a good girl, does her work as it should be done and always cheerful. I’ll be going down to make the tea, madam, you must be fair parched.’
Later, sitting opposite Titus in the drawing-room, talking in a desultory manner while he went through his letters, Arabella had the strange feeling that they had been married for years, sitting in each other’s company like an elderly married couple, easy with each other, comfortably silent if they wished. It was reassuring and what she supposed she had expected, only there was a vague doubt at the back of her head that Titus might discover one day that there was still a lot of life left before they reached the cosy stage. Supposing he met someone—some beautiful woman—and fell in love? He wouldn’t be content to sit by the fire then, would he? She wasn’t sure but she thought that he had never really looked at her, only as one would look at some familiar friend or a member of the family. He was comfortable with her, she was sure of that, and he liked her, but wouldn’t he find that insufficient after a time? Would he miss his dinner parties and the divorced ladies bent on amusing him?
She frowned a little; she mustn’t start thinking such thoughts on her wedding-day. She would make plans to improve her looks, buy clothes, meet people, give smart little dinner parties...
Dr Tavener, watching her, wondered what she was thinking. He said, ‘It’s been a long day. I dare say you are tired?’
‘Well, yes, I am.’ She uttered the fib with composure. ‘You won’t mind if I go up to bed?’
The alacrity with which he went to open the door was hardly flattering. She wasn’t sure what she had expected; it certainly wasn’t his pleasant goodnight. ‘Sleep well. Will breakfast at eight-thirty suit you?’
‘Yes, thank you. Do we go to church in the morning?’
‘If you would come with me I should be very glad.’
‘Well, of course I will. Goodnight, Titus.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘No regrets?’
‘Not a single one. I’d like to go to the kitchen and say goodnight to Percy and Bassett.’
‘Of course. Have them in your room if you would like that.’
‘No, no. I’m sure they are happy with Beauty.’
She slipped past him on her way to the kitchen and she didn’t look back.
CHAPTER SIX
ARABELLA WASN’T IN the least tired. Curled up in the vast bed, she reviewed the day. It had gone without a hitch but then she had known it would; Titus wouldn’t have stood for less than perfection. She had enjoyed the wedding and she felt at home here in this comfortable house by the canal although the manor house had her heart—besides, Bessy and Jerry were there. They would go there very often, Titus had said, and she knew him well enough to know that she could rely on him not to go back on his word. She wondered how she would fill her days, and went to sleep while she was still pondering that.
They breakfasted together, the two dogs and Percy lined up between them before the fire, discussing when they would go to the manor again, which day Arabella would like to go shopping, the best walks for the dogs—a pleasant, undemanding conversation. Arabella, notwithstanding her doubts of the previous night, felt very much at her ease.
‘We’ll take these two into the park this afternoon?’ he suggested. ‘Bassett needs a good run and Beauty will keep an eye on him.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We can walk to church—it’s only ten minutes or so. I’ve some telephoning—can we meet in an hour?’
She wandered round the house, getting to know her way around it, and then she went into the garden with the animals. It was a chilly morning and she was wearing her suit; her winter coat had seen better days and she hesitated to wear it to church. Probably Titus was known there and people might think her a very shabby sort of wife. It was fortunate that she still had a felt hat which would go very well with the suit—a dateless hat, plain and elegant and made by a well-known hatter.
He was waiting for her when she went downstairs. She was conscious of his eyes raking her person and went pink. ‘Very nice,’ he told her, ‘but shouldn’t you be wearing a thicker coat?’
She said simply, ‘My winter coat is too old—you’d be ashamed of me.’
‘Never. But you will be happier without it. Tomorrow you shall go to the shops and start to buy whatever you need, Arabella. I don’t mean any shops—I’ve an account at Harrods; you’ll go there, please, and buy anything and everything which may take your fancy.’
‘That’s a risky remark to make to a woman.’
‘Not to you! As soon as I have time I’ll get you settled with an allowance; in the meantime use Harrods.’
‘It’s a very expensive shop. I haven’t been there for years.’
They were walking to church along the quiet streets. ‘Well, now you can have a browse round and see if it still suits your taste. I’ll give them a ring in the morning and let you have my account number.’
‘Thank you, but you must let me know how much I can spend—I haven’t the least idea.’
He mentioned a sum which brought her to a halt. ‘You can’t mean that—why, it’s a small fortune!’
He took her arm and walked her along. ‘My dear Arabella, you are now my wife and I am proud of you, therefore, like all husbands, I want you to have all the pretty things you would like. Besides, now that I am a safely married man we shall have to entertain and I warn you that before you know where you are you will find yourself sitting on committees, drinking coffee and organising bazaars. For all these occasions you will need clothes. You like clothes, presumably?’
‘Like them? Of course I do. I shall run mad at Harrods—it will take more than one day’s shopping, too.’
‘Take as many days as you like. I’ve a busy week ahead of me. We will go down to the manor at the weekend, though, and the following week I have to go to Leiden and I would like you to go with me.’
‘I’d like that very much. My passport’s out of date, though.’
‘We’ll see about that in the morning.’
They had reached the church and sure enough a number of people there greeted Titus as they took their places in one of the pews. She enjoyed the service even if once or twice her thoughts strayed to the shopping delights ahead of her.
Mrs Turner was a splendid cook—the roast beef was done to a turn, the vegetables were just right and the queen of puddings which followed was deliciously light. They had their coffee and since the winter days were getting short took the dogs into
the park, walking until it was dusk, and Bassett was so tired that Arabella tucked him under one arm while Beauty raced to and fro, apparently inexhaustible.
They had tea round the fire and spent a pleasant evening discussing the week ahead. He would take her out to dinner during the week, he told her, adding with a twinkle, ‘So that you will have a chance to air one of your new dresses.’
She sparkled. ‘Oh, how lovely. Where?’
‘Claridge’s—we can dance.’ He watched the colour come into her cheeks. ‘I should be home early on Wednesday—shall we go then?’
‘Oh, yes, please.’ For a moment she was lost in a pleasant dream—transformed into a beauty overnight, wearing a gorgeous dress, making the kind of conversation which would set him smiling. She could at least have a try. Suddenly she wanted him to notice her, not just as a friend and companion but as an attractive woman...
‘What plan are you hatching in that neat head of yours?’ he wanted to know. ‘We’ll go down to the manor at the weekend and lay our plans for the trip to Leiden.’
Presently they dined, well pleased with each other’s company so that later, Arabella, getting ready for bed, reflected that living with Titus was going to be a success. Of course it was early days yet but they had made a good beginning. They might even, she thought wistfully, become fond of each other in time. She had no illusions about his falling in love with her—if he hadn’t lost his heart to all the charming females he must have known he wasn’t likely to lose it to her. She chuckled about that and then went to sleep on a sigh.
They breakfasted together quite early and Arabella, aware that Titus wished to sift through his post, checking the various reports on his patients, did no more than wish him a cheerful good morning. Later, she thought hopefully, she would have post of her own. She had plenty to think about. She had wakened early and made a list of the clothes she would buy; now she reviewed it mentally, adding a few articles she had overlooked, trying to guess what everything would cost. She gave a guilty start when Titus said suddenly, ‘Remember, Arabella, if you go shopping today, buy what suits you and don’t look at the price labels.’